


Demetae

by orphan_account



Series: The Telepath's Immortal [16]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternative Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Demetae Clan, F/M, Ianto's Family, M/M, Phone Calls, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ianto went back to Demetae to find answers for the sickness that was plaguing his mind.He returned to Jack with David, no answers and another sickness...a sickness in the form of a person he knew all too well.





	Demetae

**Author's Note:**

> ........
> 
> this took way too long to put out. i'm sorry.
> 
> okay, but real talk, i was writing nothing but this for like, seven or eight months, including time i wasn't posting and it was so draining and it made writing just not fun. so i took a little break and now i am bursting with ideas. 
> 
> the next fic will be muuuucchh longer but i'm thinking i'll have it finished by maybe a week's time, idk
> 
> thanks to everyone who's still sticking with this series, the updates will be much more frequent now :)

David was uncomfortable; his awkwardness was practically tangible in the air. Ianto shifted in his chair, feeding on his friend’s anxiety as he watched the three other Gifteds stroll into the coffee shop. The ‘gang leader’ was tall, muscular and his aura was dull and a little lifeless. Michael had been vaguely friendly towards David and Ianto when they had stayed with the clan, but Ianto had remembered him as a much brighter young boy.

The only time they had really interacted, to be frank, was when Michael had discovered David talking with his wyvern hatchling Eirian. Because David was renowned for his ruby Tint, he wasn't expected to be kind, to be a Gifted with the ability to converse with creatures, but David was; he kept it secret because of his own fear of rejection. Michael had been darling enough to keep David's secret until the Gifted was confident enough to bring his wyvern into the clan camp. 

The other two women with Michael were practically unrecognisable from afar, although Ianto was sure the petite, ginger woman was Clara (they had been born under the same moon, and were often in the same 'classes' for their magick, but after Ianto's Tint had come through, they had been separated and the clan leader had taken over Ianto's training).

As the three Gifteds weaved their way through the crowded shop, Ianto allowed himself to take in his surroundings. Draped upon the walls were prints of the village, a sweet shop from the sixties, and a church tower that Ianto actually remembered from his few visits to the village in his rebellious childhood. On the far wall, three small-paned windows resided, allowing the smallest amount of light. 

The floor was a deep red-brown, covered in dog fur - there was a pair of border collies in the corner of the room, old enough to be blind and greying at the muzzle - and dried spilled coffee. Nine tables, rickety and covered in gum, stood in the middle of the room, with four booths of deep red leather around the sides. Every one of the chairs was filled with shivering Welsh-folk from surrounding farms, nursing massive cups of coffee and doing crosswords. 

The barista, a perky blonde woman, neatly moved around the room, a tray of steaming coffee in her hands. She must have worked there for a while, or owned the place because she didn’t even have to look down as she walked towards David and Ianto. With a smile, she set down the coffee, seeming surprised when the Gifteds thanked her in matching Welsh. 

She left, grinning, and the other Gifteds in the room finally arrived, having spent a short while surveying the shop and carefully watching Ianto and David when they thought they weren't looking. 

Michael took a seat at the booth David and Ianto had sought out, followed by two middle-aged women. One of them was dark-skinned and her mind was vacant and still when Ianto dipped discreetly into it. Clara was the only woman that Ianto properly recognized, and he was pleased to find that the runes she allowed to cover her hands (but not her face) were still deep, luscious green. Gifteds with emerald Tints were typically considered to be trustworthy and more in tune with nature. 

“Ianto, David,” Michael greeted, face blank of any expression. Clara grinned at the pair, blushing when she glanced at David - Ianto was only slightly upset when he realized how besotted Clara was him. She was hankering after someone who was already very much in love with his best friend, Alyssa. 

“Michael, Clara, and…” Ianto realised that he didn’t know the other woman’s name. She arched an eyebrow and didn’t speak. “Alright...we’ve had some trouble in Cardiff. I have reason to believe that my Torchwood team are under control from a rogue Gifted, possibly from Demetae.”

"Torchwood?" Clara asked curiously, Ianto cursing himself inwardly when he realised he maybe shouldn't have told three people he didn't exactly trust about his profession. 

"Alien organization. Based in Cardiff - they've been acting, er, strangely lately. As if they've been under control, all their insecurities being forced to the surface," Ianto explained shortly, ignoring Clara's look of irritation at his lack of detail. "It's making our team weak and putting other people in danger."

“And why are you asking us about this? Are you accusing us of deserting our clan?” Michael hissed, the hostility in the booth thickening. Ianto took a careful sip of his coffee, allowing himself a moment to craft a perfectly neutral answer. Jack's ability to subdue people in a conflict had rubbed off on him to a degree but he honestly wasn't incredibly suave like his boyfriend. The thought of him made his face twist a little in discomfort, missing Jack more than he had since he had arrived in his hometown of Llysfaen.

“That’s not what we mean. Ianto was simply asking if you had heard of any clan deserters in the past few months. It’s how long we assume this mental manipulation has been going on for,” David murmured softly before Ianto could speak, leaning back nonchalantly in his chair. Ianto was immediately grateful, smiling briefly at his Link-mate. 

David and Ianto's relaxation worked, Michael’s tense shoulders loosening slightly in response. The dark woman beside him still seemed on edge but the sight and the sense of her friend(?) reclining, she lowered her steely glare. There was a moment of pause before Clara spoke again, her tone closed off now that she assumed Ianto felt too high and mighty to talk to those without the blood of the first Gifteds (because sapphire Tinted Gifteds were often more powerful, traditional magick users from clans assumed that they were the ancestors of the first Gifteds.)

“I, for one, haven’t seen any clan-deserter since you two; no offense.” Admittedly, Ianto and David were considered as clan-deserters, as was Alyssa, for leaving the clan and joining humans, but it was an old term that wasn’t typically used since Ianto had joined Torchwood London. “But of course, Demetae has gotten to be quite large and some people I still don’t even know.”

“That is fair. Demetae has over two hundred and fifty clan members, ninety of which are converted from either other clans or from human families,” the once silent woman said robotically, barely moving as she spoke. Michael’s mouth twisted into a small grimace when his clan-mate grunted. 

“Okay...so none that you know, basically. Shall we go, David?” Ianto asked, bored and disinterested now, finishing his mediocre coffee and standing. Michael growled fingers twitched as he followed Ianto and David up. The ruby-Tinted Gifted closed himself off suddenly, terrified as Michael leaned over the table threateningly. Clara and her not-so-quiet companion gripped the edge of the tablecloth, uncomfortable in their booth seat now that their pseudo-leader was angry. 

“I’ll lead you out, won’t I?”

David flinched, but Ianto grasped his elbow tightly, soothing him with his simple touch. They were silent when they left the warmth of the rural village’s coffeeshop. Cold wind bit at their cheeks and Ianto was tempted to reach into his coat pocket for his scarf but he knew Michael was about to;

Yes, grab him, hurl him into an alleyway and press him up against the brick wall behind Ianto. The Gifted hissed under his breath, the back of his head hitting the concrete harshly. David yelped, bowling into the alleyway after Ianto; he fell quiet, but paralysed with concern, when Ianto threw him a sharp look.

“You,” Michael growled sharply, his eyes growing faint and blurry. It wasn’t quite like Alyssa’s change, into her opal Tint, in which her eyes turned milky white with flecks of other colours, because Ianto was sure that Michael had had a topaz Tint. His magic was depleted as if someone had stolen it from him… “You,” Michael repeated, “better watch the fuck out. No one searches for my master without facing the repercussions.”

“And your master is who?” Ianto asked in a soothing tone, adapting quickly to Michael’s change in nature. Michael wasn’t convinced, his blind eyes glancing over Ianto’s face, but never staying in one place too long, as if he was skim-reading the lie off Ianto’s features. 

“You think I’ll tell you?” Michael laughed bitterly. But then, his anger dropped, face filled with confusion before he released his tight hold on Ianto’s jacket and took a step back, in control of himself once more. He smiled with his teeth, smoothing down the wrinkles he had left in the fabric. “I do believe this is the end of the road for you, now. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

With that, Michael turned away and disappeared away from the alleyway, passing David with a snarl that could have been considered friendly. 

"Well, that went well, wouldn't you say?" Ianto muttered, bouncing off the wall and brushing himself down. Obviously, something had happened to change Michael’s mind about threatening him any longer, judging from the swift departure. He was wrapped up in thought as he passed David, heading in the way of their hostel for the next few days. 

David huffed, not bothering to reply. 

-

The hostel room wasn’t big, but it easily fit two people quite comfortably. David had taken the bed closest to the window, too nervous to be further away and feel cooped in. Ianto was fine with taking the sofa pressed against one of the wall as his bed, and was sitting there then, legs curled up underneath him. 

He was invested in finding Jack’s number in his phone, not typically having to use it because he was always with his boyfriend. It was probably why he didn’t realise David coming closer until he was on the sofa with him, wrapping his long limbs around Ianto’s shoulders and burying his head in Ianto’s neck.

Surprised, Ianto stiffened; David was a shy and timid person at heart and he didn’t usually like to hug his friends, although he had become better at accepting it considering Alyssa was so touch-centric. However, before David pulled away, he threw his arm casually over his friend’s shoulder, playing idly with his hair as he rang Jack.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as the phone buzzed. David didn’t speak, only held Ianto tighter as Jack picked up.

“Harkness,” he greeted sharply, seeming more than slightly stressed. Ianto had been gone from Cardiff for two days, one for travel to Llysfaen and one to assimilate to the massive, almost overwhelming amount of psychic energy - when they were in Demetae, Ianto and David dealt with the amount of Gifteds in the village quite well, but they hadn’t visited their home for years.

“Do you miss me that much already?” Ianto teased, picking up on the source of Jack’s irritation. They hadn’t been away from each other since their Bond snapped and it was just as aggravating to Ianto as it was apparently to Jack.

“Yan?” Jack asked softly, a smile evident in his voice. “I haven’t been able to sleep without you,” he admitted, unabashed with his affection. Ianto blushed hotly, shifting under David’s weight. The other Gifted sensed his pleasure at Jack’s words, and smiled, nestling deeper into the warmth of his flank.

“I don’t think I can breathe without you,” Ianto whispered, a little to one up Jack and a lot more because he really meant it. “How is it back in Cardiff?”

“Not great, but not terrible; we all miss you. There’s been only three Rift alerts though and all of them have been tech pickup. Tosh and Owen are getting on quite well without you, but Gwen...I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

Ianto paused, fiddling with a loose thread in his sweatpants. Jack sounded like he wanted to say more, but there was only silence. “I...okay. That doesn’t sound too bad. How are you, though?”

His boyfriend sighed, and there was then the noise of him leaning back in his chair, the squeaky one in his office that Ianto had tried to fix more times than he could count. Undecided on his response, Jack kept quiet for a few moments. Ianto waited patiently, running his fingers through David’s hair.

“Bad,” he sighed finally, blunt enough to make Ianto flinch, face drawn together in concern. “I know it’s selfish, but I want you home. Want to kiss you again, and hold you again. I’ve never really been so clingy before, and I’ve lived for over a hundred years.” Jack laughed without humour, defeat evident in his tone.

“You know, I’d like to say it’s because of our damaged Bond, but I’m so gone for you, I know that I would miss you as much if I was human,” Ianto said lowly, reassuring Jack with his emotional integrity. 

“Mmm,” Jack hummed, pleased as much as he could be with Ianto in Llysfaen and not with him at home. “Have you found anything out regarding our rogue Gifted friend?”

 

“David and I met with some people from Demetae this morning. One of them seemed pretty fine, but we were both threatened by someone called Michael. It was strange, because I remembered him with a topaz Tint but when he shifted, everything was milky and pale,” Ianto explained, ignoring the faintest burst of anger he suddenly felt from Jack. It must have been pretty powerful because Ianto could feel it miles and miles and miles away.

“Did he hurt you?” Jack growled, something deep in his voice that was edging on fiercely possessive. David stiffened beside Ianto, hearing the murmur of it over the phone. The anger in Jack’s voice sent shivers down Ianto’s spine - he was almost aroused by it, but it was concerning at the same time.

“Jack...no. I’m okay. I’m fine; I just think someone is depleting his magic. I dipped into one of his friend’s minds, and she was cold and vacant, as if she wasn’t in control of her own thoughts. I expect Michael is the same,” Ianto mumbled, soothing the fury he still felt from Jack across the country.

“So, you think he’s under control from this rogue?”

Ianto nodded before realising that Jack couldn’t see him. “Yeah, definitely. He said something about not messing with his master. I don’t think though, before you ask, that it would be the right idea to question Michael or his friend more about the rogue. They’re quite aggressive and I think with the hold this rogue has on their minds, they won’t give anything up.”

“They’ll be in Demetae when we go tomorrow. We could ask our leader about them, and they wouldn’t know anything about it,” David whispered from his place against Ianto’s side. The Archivist hummed under his breath, thinking to himself. He relayed the information to Jack.

“That’s a good idea, I would try that. Do you have a good relationship with your leader?”

Ianto chuckled, thinking back on every time Branwen had helped him and kept him safe. “Oh, yeah. She likes me plenty.”

Jack hummed, interrupted by an echoey yelp. It was followed by a loud crash that must have been some metal falling from a rather large height. Ianto rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Gwen’s dropped the tech we just picked up. I’ll see you in a few days, won’t I?”

“You will. Bye, Jack,” Ianto reassured his partner, hanging up before the first notes of Jack yelling at Gwen begun. David leant up then, stretching out his aching joints. Ianto arched an eyebrow, amused by his friend’s antics. 

 

“What has you so worked up, freckles?” Ianto teased, laughing softly when David reached up to touch his cheeks as if to check he did indeed still have his freckles. He scowled, poking Ianto’s shoulder with the slightest of touch in irritation. 

“I don’t like it when people threaten my friends,” he said, anger hot and boiling in his gaze. His aggressiveness only ever shone through as protectiveness, but it was concerning nonetheless to see such a usually shy, do-no-wrong person shake with fury. 

Ianto pulled himself up from his slouched position on the sofa and pressed a short kiss to David’s forehead. “You needn’t worry so much, David. I can protect myself. We’ll both leave Llysfaen unscathed.”

David’s anger left him. He sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

“Anyways, you sap, we need to get ready. Branwen isn’t going to meet herself, is she?” Ianto joked lightly, scrambling up onto his own two feet. He was unsteady for a second but David grasped his elbow and rightened him.

“Let’s go, then,” David muttered, grabbing his bag from the floor. Why Ianto seemed excited to go back to the clan that ruined their lives was beyond him.

-

They didn’t actually go to the clan. Ianto, despite what David had expected, wanted absolutely nothing to do with the entirety of Demetae (and considering the fact Demetae had spawned Gifteds that hunted Ianto down after he left the clan for the sake of his powerful magick, it really wasn’t surprising).

Instead, Ianto had finally reignited his simple Link with Branwen and arranged to meet the ageing Gifted in the forest surrounding the clan camp. David and Ianto didn’t take long to travel there, knowing their way there like the back of there hands; in their youth, Ianto had always followed David to the forest when he visited his wyvern hatchling. 

Branwen arrived shortly after them, clambering with her cane through the luscious greenery until she reached the sun-bathed clearing Ianto and David had set up in. They were meditating when their leader tapped them harshly on the shoulder, startling them both from their reveries.

David scrambled up from his yoga mat so that Branwen could sit on it, retreating to a twisted oak overlooking the clearing so he could watch his leader and his friend interact. He clambered gracefully onto one of the branches, drifting easily into his Gifted form, eyes filling with sharp redness. Showing the almost muddy red runes across his cheeks and forehead, which couldn’t be more different than Ianto’s - aggressive where Ianto’s were delicate - was a show of defiance to Branwen. He didn’t like the woman because of the ignorance she had shown to him due to his Tint. 

Ianto was different though. His Tint had been in correspondence to every powerful Gifted in history; when his eyes had changed from pale blue to a shock of sapphire, his first Gifted attribute aside from his telepathy, Branwen had become obsessed with him. She took him under her wing and Ianto revelled in the attention. 

Until Branwen had sent him away when he expressed an interest in humanity. When she hadn’t stopped her underlings - three of their past clan members, John, Eric and Lu - from hunting him down to take his power from him (they hadn’t succeeded and Ianto had killed his first...and his second and his third). 

They were civil with each other, David noticed from his watchful post in his tree, magick sparking at his fingers every time Ianto looked even slightly uncomfortable. The first time had been when Branwen had revealed her Gifted form, settling easily into the massive grey wings that sprouted from her back, feathers tangled and matted with deep brown. Her arms coated with dark chestnut rune work - David thought back on the classes he’d been given on Tints but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what amber meant.

The meeting was shorter than what David had first imagined. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear Ianto and Branwen but he felt Ianto’s easiness and his reassuring warmth in his mind, along with the feeling of Branwen’s overwhelming thoughts imposing on him. She was aggravated, David could tell enough from the tight Line she held over his mind, but David wasn’t entirely sure why.

“I’ll bid my leave, then,” Branwen announced, only about ten minutes after they had met. “Ianto...and David,” she nodded at both, the wrinkles marring her face deepening as she furrowed her brow. Her Gifted form melted away to show a woman too old to be just human. 

Slowly, her bones clicking ominously in the quiet of the forest. David and Ianto stayed seated, an open show of their disrespect for their supposed leader. She scowled in poorly disguised fury, clenching her fist around her cane as she swirled away, her dress of black and mud and leaves and feathers swishing and catching in the lower branches as she artfully made her way back through the forest to the clan. 

Ianto waited until he was sure she was gone before he spoke. “She told me nothing,” he grunted, rolling up his and David’s yoga mats - they were intended for outdoor meditation but Ianto hadn’t had the time nor the energy to go ahead with it. 

“What do you mean?” David enquired, dropping down from his place in the canopy and deftly catching the mat Ianto threw at him. 

“I mean what I said. She didn’t give me anything. I’m not sure why I was so optimistic to talk to her, because she gave me fuck all,” Ianto growled, shouldering the bag he had taken. “Apparently, there’s been absolutely no clan-deserter, not since us. But...I don’t know, her mental walls were stronger than what I remembered.”

“What, you think she’s involved with the rogue?” David asked, hurrying after his Linkmate as he marched away, trampling without any care or thought through the leaves. Ianto didn’t speak for a long moment as they trudged along the undergrowth.

“...Maybe. The only way we could really be sure is to go back to the clan-”

“No. It still wouldn’t guarantee an answer. Plus, there’s no way in hell Branwen would let us in given how irritable you were when she suggested you meeting there. And I don’t want to go back there, anyways,” David murmured, stalking through the woods. The trees were thinning out now, and David remembered from when they had first ventured into the forest that the thicket was going to even out into farmland. 

“You really don’t like Demetae, do you?” Ianto asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder at David. His brow was knitted but David knew he wasn’t judging him for his repulsion at the idea of returning to his birthplace. They’d had frighteningly different experiences there and it was no wonder why David didn’t like the place that had beaten anxiety into every ounce of him. 

“No. Not particularly. Are you going to visit Rhiannon before we leave?”

Ianto hummed under his breath. “Probably. I haven’t had any chance to tell her about Jack,” he decided, breaking out into a jog as the land flattened out. He wanted out of Llysfaen and he wanted to be back with Jack. “We’ll drop everything off at the hostel. Will you pack whilst I go visit Rhiannon?”

“Yeah, sure,” David said tiredly, his long legs easily covering the distance Ianto had made. The hostel and the village were in sight but Rhiannon veered to the west of the village, by the church there. David nodded his goodbye, taking Ianto’s things from him and quickened his pace, a sprint to the village to ensure the swiftest of departures from Demetaen land.

-

“He’s brilliant, you know. I think you’d love him. I hope you would have loved him even a fraction of how much I do.”

The cemetery was dismal and grey; it was getting to be late and no one but the local Wiccans visited the graveyard at this hour. So, it was quiet and for Ianto, it was perfect. He had never liked sitting down to talk to Rhiannon if some grieving wife was sobbing by the gravestone next to him. 

“He’s confusing though. Jack’s just a bit like that. One moment, he was all over me being a Gifted and the next he’s worried I’m controlling him. Admittedly, there’s been a bit of an issue lately, some clan-deserter assumedly that’s been manipulating our team. I know, I know…”

He paused, leaning his head back to breathe in the clean, crisp air. “It’s confusing. We’re a little confusing.” Laughing, Ianto reached out a hand to pat at Rhiannon’s gravestone. Her message was written in Gaelic runes. ‘Blessed be,’ was scribed in English at the bottom. 

“I miss you,” Ianto sighed, a thick lump in his throat. It had been five years since Rhiannon had died, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t hurt. Perhaps if she hadn’t caught pneumonia that long winter, or maybe if Ianto hadn’t inadvertently fed off her magick and weakened her...it didn’t matter. His sister was dead and no amount of ‘but what if?’ was going to change that fact.

“I always do leave you feeling a little bitter, you know. Whatever,” Ianto muttered, standing unsteadily. A slow mist was rolling in from the hills, interrupting the glare from what little sunlight there was left. “I love you, Rhiannon.”

Ianto ran a hand through his mess of hair, lips downturned harshly as he turned on his heel, marching away briskly. He was by the entrance of the cemetery, eager to leave despite being unable to visit Rhiannon in Cardiff, when a hand reached out and grabbed him, effectively halting his progress.

The hand, when Ianto turned his gaze upon, was skeletal and the veins were prominent and throbbing. Ianto shuddered involutarily at the sight, following the boniness up to a torso, and then an entire body, shrouded in a dark gown. 

“Ianto…” the woman whispered, tightening her grip on his arm. Ianto felt sick. “Ianto, I know who it is now. I know who’s hurting you.”

Her voice was wispy and rasped against her throat. Ianto tried to pull away, but she stepped closer, foul breath clouding in the air. “Get off me,” Ianto grunted. “I told you. I want nothing to do with you, nothing at fucking all.”

The woman whimpered at his harshness, but Ianto didn’t care, couldn’t care. “Oh, my boy...give me a few days. Just take me back to your team, let me work on their minds-”

“Shut up,” Ianto grunted. The woman’s eyes widened - Rhiannon’s eyes. His eyes. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to walk out of my life one day and then try and fix it another.”

“Please,” she begged, and Ianto flinched, breaking a little on the inside. “Please, I just want to help.”

She seemed genuine - Ianto wanted her to be genuine. And...well, it didn’t exactly adhere to Ianto’s principles to refuse help when he so desperately needed it. Ianto dropped his head down, nodding finally. “Okay. Fine.” He looked up then, staring at his mother’s gaunt, pale features. “You can help me. You can help my team. And then you can leave-”

“And never come back?” she asked, smiling gently, with a quirked brow that Ianto was known for. 

He nodded again. “And never come back.”


End file.
